


Homage for The Suffering

by GlitteringKitten



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, draining feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitteringKitten/pseuds/GlitteringKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens after the battle against evil is over? The Avengers return home, of course - and deal with the consequences as a group. Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homage for The Suffering

**Author's Note:**

> This was written pre-Avengers Film. When I was creating this story, I had Matthew Perryman Jones' "Homage For The Suffering" playing on repeat. Amazingly, as I left the cinema and drove home after seeing it, this is the first song that came on in my car. I had to avoid bursting into tears (and crashing the car) over things that had happened in the film, because it was just so poignant. If you therefore want the true experience of this, go and open spotify/youtube/whatever it is you kids use these days - and play it whilst reading.

There was a slight quiet, the understanding that it was really over, they had won - shattered suddenly by a hearty laugh from Thor; breaking the vows of others as they collectively sighed in relief. An air of rejoicing flickered across their faces, each of them relaxing into smiles and whoops of joy, sweat and blood dripping from grazes and bodies as they turned to each other in congratulations. Hawkeye clapped The Hulk’s shoulder, immediately retracting his hand when catching sight of the gaze shot his way from the larger monster - only to be stunned and end up struggling when he was lifted into the air and held there with glee by two large green hands. The Black Widow laughed as they all joined together - a team - in a dirty mess of a group, moving as one to start to repair the damage left behind their triumph. On the sidelines, Captain America lifted metal and threw broken glass into dustbins nearby whilst Thor attempted to rectify a damaged payphone. Iron Man stood still, watching them as they danced subconsciously around one another; helping as much as they could before leaving it to the Shield Operatives to finish the work off. Only when the Captain turned to him and grinned, a strong toothy smile of accomplishment, did Iron Man rejoin their fold. Inside, Tony Stark felt his heart ticking over, the battle for acceptance taking each breath slowly away into the shell he’d created for himself. The pressure against his chest increased, but it was not a wound he could ever admit to heal.

At the Avengers Mansion - for it was no longer Stark Mansion, he could see it never would be his mansion again - they all disappeared their separate ways, not apart from one another necessarily, but to their respective places of solitude. Places to cleanse themselves, wash away the dirt and grit that had formed during their most recent battle. Hulk disappeared to his tranquillity, to return himself to the more gentle state of being Bruce, the man who was comfortable working a lab and calming down the pain of war that affected his state so much more than he liked to admit. The Black Widow did not return with them, slipped away into the darkness outside and, if she had her way, would not be seen again that night without prompting from Hawkeye. Thor headed to the kitchen, gathering whatever food and drink he could locate to pull to the central lounge - it was his belief that a feast should be had after a battle so great, and often he would be joined by the others throughout the evening; their bonds never quite disappearing with the end of the war. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, through all of their veins - and a night of games and food was the best way to remove it, in his opinion. Hawkeye and the Captain would head straight to their rooms, changing and showering and removing all evidence that they’d spent their hours protecting the world - the Captain because it did not suit him to wear the weariness of war longer than required; Hawkeye because it suited him to shrug it all off under a steamy hot jet of water. His ability to shake off the most dangerous of fights was enviable to most; but they all knew it was a ruse, a façade he wore to keep his spirits up. Iron Man would disappear to his cellar, immediately working on improvements he knew he could make to the suit surrounding him. As he worked downstairs on his armour, strengthening the bonds of metal to make him infallible, his team mates built their own bonds above him, floorboards keeping their distance more obvious than ever.

The sound of laughter from above penetrated the room, breaking past the alleged soundproofing that contained his workshop. Tony’s brow wore the stains of grease, mechanical emotions drifting across his face as he played with the blue lights of ideas yet to be completed. Shattering glass, followed by more laughter, a shriek, and everything weighed down on the metal container, the metal protection surrounding his body. Eyes coated in flecks of sweat - it was sweat, it had to be sweat - and a warmth that was both cooling and teasing dragged through his skin; it was as though the metal were breathing around him, in out in out - heavy and unforgiving. More giggling, an argument of sorts, and then the sounds of music vibrating down the very core of his spine. Everything ached and between the sheaths of plating, Tony felt his breathing stall, unable to capture that last breath that he knew he needed. Dancing on the floorboards, splintering around him as Thor’s body was no doubt re-enacting a dance that Asgardians could perform only in the most noisy of manners. Tony moved across the room, shielding his head with his arm, the movement lagging as the mass surrounding him strangled his motion. He pushed the button to remove his suit and it hissed incomprehensibly. Again he pushed, but it stalled; arguing every request with a direct negative. The claustrophobic feeling in his chest wound tighter, a boa constrictor of solidity pushing him to the ground in a heap; stuck in a suit that separated him from the world. Above him the joyful sounds continued, whispering words of loneliness and solitude into Tony’s ears as he collapsed to his knees, face held awkwardly in arduous hands

Suddenly the echoing noises stop; and all Tony can hear is the blood pumping through his veins, the sound of tears dripping down his face, across his chin, wet against cool metal, shallow breaths and the creaking volume of the suit as sobs tiptoe down his back. All he can hear is the whirring of his arc reactor, stuttering and coping as he falls apart inside. He doesn’t hear the sound of footsteps, the soft movement of the Captain approaching. He feels none of the fingers on his back, nor the hand gently reaching for his release button; but suddenly he finds himself falling forwards into a strong pair of arms as the metal retracts beneath his bones. And then the Captain is holding him as he takes deep breaths, as he shakes out his own stains from the war against a white tank top and a reassuring pillar of muscle. The feeling of skin and fresh air and everything human again; and Tony takes his solitude this way. He breaks down and rebuilds himself in one quick motion; takes the Captain’s hand as he pulls himself up and follows the Captain back into the trenches that he just isn’t quite sure he can face. But the Captain leads him back into the foray with his team; and the more he does, the more Tony feels like he can breath again.


End file.
